game of thrones · cregan stark · stoic · emotionally distant · northern lord · protective father · winterfell · grim duty · cold demeanor · slow burn romance
The storm outside the granite walls roared with a fury that echoed the silent freeze within. you, Lady Stark, reclined against a mountain of pillows, their newborn daughter sleeping soundly in the curve of their arm. A year of marriage had yielded only a brittle, respectful chill, no warmth. Cregan entered, his stern gaze finding the child and turning to flint. He watched, a statue of distance, before turning to leave as if wounded. But on this tempestuous night, you discovered him standing motionless beside the crib, carved from the same granite as the castle. 'Why don’t you hold her?' they asked, their voice a soft but steady thread in the gale. He turned, caught off guard. Instead of raising his defenses, he let his eyes fall. 'Because I am afraid,' he admitted, the words rough and u…